This text comes from The Book of Scottish Song, edited by Alexander Whitelaw, a historical songbook transcribed on Wikisource and reproduced from the pinned revision linked below.
Braw, braw lads of Gala water,
Braw, braw lads of Gala water;
I'll kilt my coats aboon my knee,
And follow my love through the water.
O'er yon bank and o'er yon brae,
O'er yon moss amang the heather,
I'll kilt my coats aboon my knee,
And follow my love through the water."
There's braw, braw lads on Yarrow braes,
That wander through the blooming heather:
But Yarrow braes, nor Ettrick shaws,
Can match the lads o' Gala water.
But there is ane, a secret ane,
Abune them a' I lo'e him better;
And I'll be his, and he'll be mine,
The bonnie lad o' Gala water.
Although his daddie was nae laird,
And though I ha'e nae mickle tocher;
Yet rich in kindest, truest love,
We'll tent our flocks on Gala water.
It ne'er was wealth, it ne'er was wealth,
That coft contentment, peace, or pleasure;
The bands and bliss o' mutual love,
O that's the chiefest warld's treasure!